


Tell Me Lies (Tell Me Sweet Little Lies)

by b_g__tt__a_ue__e



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with an Open Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Forbidden Love, Just a lot of good old fashioned angst, Langst, M/M, Prince and bodyguard au, klangst, knight!keith, royalty!lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_g__tt__a_ue__e/pseuds/b_g__tt__a_ue__e
Summary: They don’t risk it often. They know that if they get caught, it will end in death and disgrace. But the consequences pale when they are together, and they could almost believe it was real





	Tell Me Lies (Tell Me Sweet Little Lies)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fleetwood Mac's 'Little Lies'

Lances loves it and he hates it. Loves the feeling of his skin, hates that it plagues him during their weeks apart. Loves his lips on him, all over him, hates that they leave no marks, no proof they were there. Loves his strength, his voice, his eyes, his all. Hates that none of it can ever be his, not truly.

During their time apart, he plays back in his mind the nights they spend together, feels the phantom warmth of Keith’s body, his soul, against Lance’s own. He clings to it: it's all that he has.

When the periods between their meetings are longer, weeks stretching into months, he fantasizes about how it would be if everything were different. If they could be.

Sometimes they're the same, a knight and a prince, but the rules holding them back are gone, and they're free to collide, to come together. Other times they're different; two knights or two princes or two peasants. Maybe not even in this world - a place without hierarchy that Lance escapes to in his dreams. But it really doesn’t make a difference what fantasy they're in: the only thing that matters is that they're together in every one of them. He placates himself by imagining that all these fantasies are alternate realities, but what does it matter really? It's not his reality.

He doesn't do this often. After a certain point, it becomes torturous to think of what could have been, or what is in some other, kinder dimension.

In past separations, more often than not, Lance spent the time berating himself, convincing himself, ordering himself to break it off. To send Keith away from his side for good. To marry someone else, a political match for the good of Altea. Sometimes he achieved it, agreed that it was too painful to fall back into his knight’s arms.

But then Keith returns. He comes home. He looks at Lance, and the prince feels fire running over him, through him. It was easier in the beginning to tell himself no. Now Lance rarely even tries. If he does, he can never agree.

Whenever they get the chance, they fall together. Mixing and joining so that it is impossible to tell where the one ends and the other begins. Red and blue. Purple.

They don’t risk it often. They know that if they get caught, it will end in death and disgrace. But the consequences pale when they are together, and they could almost believe it was real.

There's no other feeling like it in the world. There's nothing like becoming purple.

 

* * *

 

This time, it's Lance that instigates it.

Usually the prince is the level headed one, trying his best to keep them both from getting hurt, and it's the knight that drags him in with promises of fire and ice and purple.

But when Keith returns to the castle this time, he's distant. His eyes are glazed, unfocused. He loses himself in a world of his own, during banquets and balls, and it takes kicks under the table from Shiro to bring him back.

The Captain of the Guard is patient and observant, and Lance is forever grateful that he considers his brother's (and his prince's) happiness to be above the law that forbids them to be together. For now, at least. With every stray glance, every heated stare between them, every time purple becomes stronger, more binding, Lance sees him become more and more concerned. He knows that eventually, Shiro will get them to call it off. For the sake of their young unbroken hearts.

After a few days of failed attempts at catching Keith’s eyes, Lance gives in and makes the first move. It's too unbearable to be this close without closing the distance fully.

He does it at a ball, an annual event between Altea and their neighbouring country Galra. Amidst the festivities and the dancing (and the wine), no-one will notice a prince making off with his guard.

He waits until he knows that the rest of the royalty has had too much to drink, and escapes the arms of the crown prince of Galra. He makes up some excuse about a friend he hasn't seen in awhile - which is not technically a lie - and promises to return soon - which is most definitely false. Besides, it's not like he'll notice: Lotor is a notorious drinker, and will have forgotten all about Lance within seconds of his exit.

He makes his way over to the edge of the room where Keith is hovering. It's a testament to how distracted the knight really is that he doesn't notice Lance until he's right behind him. Lance isn't exactly subtle, especially not after he's had this much to drink.

“This _is_ a surprise,” he purrs, close to Keith's back but still careful of the ever-watchful gossips. “So much for your legendary senses.” The knight jumps, obviously startled, and whirls round to glare at the prince. Lance smirks, allowing his eyes to drink in the man in front of him. It's been too long.

“La- My Prince!” Keith hisses, tone irritated but words formal. Lance feels his smirk grow into a full blown grin at this. Winding Keith up in public places is fun, because there's nothing he can do to retaliate.

 _At least not here. Not now, with the whole world watching. But he always gets him back later, under the cover of darkness and within the safety of the walls of his room. When they're stripped of rank, of boundaries both social and physical, he gets his revenge. Anything goes. And Lance_ loves _it._

Lance winks at him, and then motions towards the open door not twenty feet to their left. He edges along the room, assuming that Keith is following, and is therefore surprised to find himself alone by the exit. He turns around to see Keith standing in the same place - the same _position_ \- that he left him in. Pouting slightly, he beckons him with his first finger and, well, who is a knight to defy a direct order from a prince?

Keith follows this time, at a distance, and it gives Lance time. Time to ponder the way Keith had seemed to be avoiding him over the last couple of days. Time to doubt, to question the stability of their relationship.

Sure, during the nights that they come together - in the darkness and the warmth and the bleeding purple edges - they promise themselves to each other, claim and possess with words. Sweet lies. But Lance knows - they both know - it can't last. Shiro wouldn't let it last. The law wouldn't let it last. His family - goddess forbid they ever find out - wouldn't let it last. They are not meant to be, not for long, not forever. Not like Lance wants. Not like Keith deserves.

Keith. The knight. The instigator of purple. The holder of the key to Lance’s heart. Has he realised what the prince had always known? Worse still, has he moved on, found another who can be with him in every way he wants. Lance’s soul cries out at that. But who is he to begrudge Keith happiness?

He drops his head, his shoulders. He slumps in on himself. He knew it wouldn't - couldn't - last long. He told himself to get out again and again. But now, at the tender age of 23, he can feel his very heart grow cold and heavy in his chest. 

They reach his room while he's thinking. This room has been their sanctuary for 7 years, a place where they could let their souls mingle freely, painting every surface purple. He's almost reluctant to push on the handle, to face the music he knows is playing on the other side of the door. But they can't hang around outside forever.

It's Keith who nudges him to do it. A scoff and a glimpse of his old smug grin, the one reserved for late night excursions, tips Lance over the edge. Keith is acting himself again, just for a moment before the smile slips right off his face. It's enough though. Enough to make Lance’s heart jackrabbit with hope.

They enter, not in their usual grab-push-fall manner, but quietly. Reserved. Keith, who would normally be all over Lance, laughing and giving and taking, shuts the door behind them but makes no further move to come into the room. Lance’s heart drops, his face falling with it. “What's wrong, Keith?” he asks, voice a quiet and barely there whisper. Keith cocks his head to the side, questioning. “What do you mean, Highness?”

Lance frowns at this. Yeah, it made sense to keep the formalities in the ballroom with a hundred other people, but here in his chambers? No-one is here but the them. Here they have no boundaries or titles, nothing but their essence. Here Lance is no more a prince than he is a pauper. The use of his status hurts, cuts, burns over his chest with it's wrongness.

"That. You're using my title. You're distancing yourself. You- you've been avoiding me." He's desperate, imploring and confused. Why is he being rejected in this manner, without a given reason or explanation. Keith stutters slightly, shaking his head in negation, but he knows what Lance means. The prince can see it in his face. So why deny it? 

"Be truthful with me Keith." He murmurs, stepping closer, dipping his head to try and catch the knight's eye. "Tell me why."

 He resists a moment longer, then finally releases a sigh, looking up at the royal in front of him. His face is tired. His words are whispered. If Lance had not been so close to him, he would not have heard them. "Because I'm leaving."

Everything seems to stop. His breathing stills. The world falls away - rushes away - from him. He can hear his heart go silent. Keith keeps talking. 

"I'm going away. For good, Lance."

 _Yes, Keith, I heard you. You don't need to say it again. Please don't say it again_ he thinks. But his lover doesn't stop.

"While I was in Balmera, I was told about a country called Olkari. They're different to us, Lance. They have no monarchy, no laws about status or money or- or love. Anyone can go there, make their fortune, be seen as equal." He sighs, turning away from Lance, walking across the room to the closed glass doors. "I've registered for citizenship, and I'm leaving tomorrow." He moves the curtains away from the window, staring up at the cloudless night.

There's only one thing Lance can say, that he can force past motionless lips. "Why?" Keith turns his head slightly to acknowledge the prince, but does not look directly at him. He doesn't hesitate in offering an explanation. "I love you. You know I love you. But I can't stay here and suffer under the laws that keep us apart. Maybe someday I'll make my fortune, come back to you, be with you in every way. But I can't stay here. Not like this."

Lance knows in his heart that Keith is right. He knows that this is for the better. But that doesn't make easy. 

At first, he doesn't notice that he's crying.

But then Keith's there, up in his space, ducking his head down to Lance’s eye level. "Hey hey hey," he whispers, consoling and gentle. He tilts the prince's head up, brushing away his tears with a delicate touch, reverent in the way he lets his fingers linger against the altean's skin.

"Lie to me." Lance hears himself whisper. His voice brakes on the words, choked in an attempt to hold back further tears. Keith frowns down at him, hand trailing down his face lightly as it falls back to his side. "What?"

And then Lance is pushing, arms around Keith's neck, hands threading through his hair, and the galran’s own arms are looping around the prince's back. They're walking, tripping backwards across the room. Bodies tangling, lips meeting, souls merging.

"One more time. One more night. Lie to me. Say you can stay." And they're moving, falling, collapsing in on each other like dying stars. Like these are their final moments. Their last breaths. The mattress is beneath them, molding against their bodies.

And they're kissing. And Keith is lying between movements, whispers and false promises against his flesh. Sweet lies. Little lies. And Lance can almost believe.

He can almost believe it's real.

 

 

In the morning, when he wakes, Keith is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I was listen to Little Lies last week and this came to me and refused to leave until I wrote it. I hope y'all like it  
> The next chapter of HPGNOT should be up in the next few days or so  
> Thanks much xx


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